Perhaps it is the mind separating things into this and that. Perhaps it is the mind with it’s preferences

Remember the night we took your mother’s car and drove over the skyway bridge? The moon was a bright light to show the way.

Pink hues from the west Filter through Snow covered boughs Leaving, The evening light

It’s that time of year again. The sound of honking geese fills the air, as they pass in alignment, to the Deep South.

The buck in the garden Chewing up hard earned Labor, His antlers raise, His ears perk up, as

In the still night In the silence, My soul begs, My mind to rest. It’s story told

Driving through the small towns of America, children of all colors playing in the streets, some with tattered clothes

What inspires me... Hummingbirds buzzing as they land, on nearby flowers. Their amazing wings

Remember goodness in the fire of e… Remember joy in the center of sorr… Remember love in the flood of hate… Remember courage in the pit of fea… It’s never too late.

Ambition seems overrated at this time of life, effort seems more like strife. In my youth I was motivated by a hungry desire

Pale blue moon Of August, Peeking behind The clouds, Luminous,

Great scientific minds Working for cures Of terminal diseases, The clock ticks... What is the cure

The many places I have been And countless faces I have seen, The many tales to be told, Into the universe, they unfold. It’s all a passing show,

Looking at my journal’s Blank page While geese fly by and honk A greeting. The red cardinals